


Bamboozled

by Rroselavy



Category: Saiyuki
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-06-30
Updated: 2010-06-30
Packaged: 2017-10-10 08:14:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,550
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/97561
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rroselavy/pseuds/Rroselavy





	Bamboozled

He'd seen the slender flapper hanging around at Bamboozled for a couple of nights before he'd figured out she'd been employed by Christian. Gordon was used to young ladies coming and going -- strippers were a dime a dozen -- but she looked as if she couldn't be a day over fourteen! Gordon knew that a certain segment of the male population found that to be arousing, but Christian had always been adamant that his employees and patrons were of legal age. Moreover, Gordon had never taken the older man for a pedophile, but when he'd seen Christian take the nubile girl into his private office and she'd emerged later -- quite a bit later -- her liquid gold eyes half-lidded, her lips swollen and her too-too-short dress in disarray, Gordon's respect for his employer dropped down a few pegs.

He turned his face away from the young slip of a thing as she walked by purposefully towards Christian's assistant, Henry.

"Boss says I'm on tomorrow!" Gordon caught her surprisingly low, sexy voice. Henry nodded curtly.

"Let me show you your dressing room, Samantha; I'm sure one of the other girls will be happy to help you with your wardrobe.

"Thanks, Henry!" A smile broke out on the pixie's face, her eyes shining iridescent in the lurid light of the club, which did nothing to diminish the tawny color of her complexion. A mulatto, no doubt, Gordon assessed. "You're a real stand-up guy!" She said excitedly, one hand falling on the tall brunet's arm. Gordon turned toward the bar, only to cringe at the expression on the keep's face.

"Looks like the new bird's already taken, Gord-o," Gus snickered, crimson eyes darting over to the boss's closed door meaningfully.

"Stuff it, half-breed," Gordon harrumphed.

"Christian ain't no bluenose you know, and he's not that old that he can't be someone's daddy," the redhead remarked. He pushed a shot across the copper bar top towards the blond. "I'm sure he'll share."

"Not interested."

"Didja see the gams on that doll? Her skirt was so short you could see her garters!"

"I think that was her intention, genius," Gordon muttered before downing the hooch in one gulp. For the first time since he could remember, he wasn't looking forward to a night at the club.

* * *

Gordon avoided Christian the next night, instead focusing all of his attention on the crowd. His specialty was sussing out G-men and giving them the bum's rush before Gus opened the bar and the girls put on their nightly show. He was keen at his endeavor and Christian paid him handsomely, though Gordon was sure that Christian paid all his employees well; no one ever left the club with a sour look on their face, and most of the girls that left Christian's employment did so on the arm of a gentleman, someone willing to make an honest woman out of an ex-hoofer. Along with Henry, Gordon also made certain that the clientele knew not to touch the merchandise; Christian was adamant that he was not in the prostitution business, and the rest of his employees were fine with that. There was honor among thieves.

Henry doubled as a stage manager and stage mother, taking the new girls under his wing and ensuring that the pecking order wasn't disrupted. Ruffled feathers would never do when everyone worked in such close quarters. Overall the employees of Bamboozled were one big happy, albeit eccentric family. They had squabbles, but Christian was adept at smoothing things over. It was no surprise that Chief of Police Zachary and Mayor Howell frequented the club, it was the swankiest, best run joint around, legal or not.

Samantha breezed by him barely giving him a second look as he glared daggers at her. Gordon knew his anger was nothing personal, he just had a problem with her age. She should have been home taking care of her parents, or her younger siblings, or working in a factory, not showing off her wares to every Tom, Dick and Harry.

"You got a problem with me, or something?"

Gordon looked up to meet golden eyes boring holes into his head, once again taken aback for a moment by the huskiness of her voice. He barked out a laugh at her impudence, she was a little slip of a thing, arms akimbo and feet planted wide, standing up to him, but before he could give her a straight answer an arm looped around his neck and he was yanked off balance.

"Gord-o here has a problem with _every_one, honey," Gus provided. "You'll get used to it, though. His bark is worse than his bite, unless you're a Fed." He waggled his brows. "Maybe I should pat you down some time and make sure you aren't packing any heat," he grinned lecherously at the young girl.

"Get your dirty paws off of me, bitch!" Gordon gritted, slipping out from under Gus' arm. Turning his attention to the girl, he eyed her up and down. "You should be home playing with your dollies, little girl," Gordon frowned.

Samantha looked at him, her eyes widening before a huge grin split her face. Gordon found nothing remotely funny in his comment, his scowl deepened.

"I'll have you know I turned nineteen last April, but thanks for your concern. I hope you enjoy the show!"

* * *

Gordon would have preferred to have been anywhere but in the darkened club waiting for Samantha's show, but somehow Christian had buttonholed him between sets and then, arm linked in his, had walked Gordon to his V.I.P. table.

"I think you're going to like Sam's show, Gordon. I, myself, was skeptical until I got a private preview last evening." Christian smiled benignly and then beckoned one of the cigarette girls over. Choosing a pack Chesterfields he swept his hand out to Gordon. "Please," he proffered.

It wasn't every day that the boss was buying so Gordon helped himself to a pack of Luckies. He was feeling a little better, buoyed by the news that Christian hadn't done anything illicit with Samantha, though Gordon still wasn't sold on her age. Christian had been a father to him, picking Gordon up off the streets after the influenza outbreak in '18 had left the boy orphaned and homeless. He would forever be indebted to his odd benefactor, but that didn't mean he agreed with everything that Christian did.

"Did 'Sam' show you a birth certificate?" Christian cocked his head, puzzled. Then he said quietly, "Do you think I'd do something stupid like that, Gordon? I may be old, but I'm not soft in the head."

Immediately Gordon felt embarrassed that he'd questioned the boss's judgment, humiliated that he'd done so verbally. Gordon stared at the surface of the table, suitably chastised.

The house lights dimmed and loud music started up suddenly, causing Gordon to start, his heart pounding in his ears. He looked up at the stage where a single spot was trained. After a moment Samantha slipped out from behind the curtains, sauntering up to the front of the stage. She was dressed in fishnet stockings and a black teddy partially obscured by a lurid purple feather boa. Her hair was combed in a straight bob, her make-up nothing short of perfection. Long, false lashes fanned out over rouged cheeks. She smiled beguilingly as catcalls began to ring out from the darkened tables.

Then she began to move; a slow, sensuous grind, timed perfectly with the music, the feathered boa sliding over her body and between her legs. The catcalls had reached a crescendo as she slid the boa back and forth, humping it provocatively. It was then that Gordon, and, judging from the loud gasps in unison, just about everyone else in the club realized that Samantha wasn't a Samantha at all. Gordon whipped his head around to stare at Christian, whose eyes were fixed on the stage, a knowing expression on his face. Gordon's next thought was that all hell was going to break loose, but then 'Samantha' turned around, treating the audience to a view of his perfect ass shimmying along to the music. After a tense few seconds the crowd exploded in cheering and more catcalls.

The rest of the set was a blur, all Gordon could remember was 'Samantha' ending it wearing nothing but a set of pasties and the flimsiest of silk under shorts imaginable, a single red rose, gifted from someone at one of the tables, clenched between his teeth.

As the lights dimmed once again, Gordon found that he could barely breathe. He was mortified that after years of working in the club, seeing women in varying states of undress had never so much as caused him the briefest of arousal, but 'Samantha' had managed to nearly make him cream in his trousers. The way his hips had undulated in time with the beat, the way his hand had caressed wantonly over his glowing skin ... scraping over dusky nipples ... Gordon found he needed some air and a good smoke.

"So, what do you think?" Christian asked. Gordon swung around to face his boss, trying to calm his racing pulse. Christian only smiled understandingly. "I know! I had the same reaction last night." He patted Gordon's hand. "Go on, you look like you could use some fresh air."

"Thanks," he mumbled. Taking his leave of Christian, Gordon stumbled out a side entrance from the club, into a blind alleyway. The crisp evening air did little to affect the raging hard-on that he'd acquired, courtesy of 'Samantha's' show. Gordon loosened his belt and undid the buttons at his waistband. He slipped a hand into his trousers, hissing a breath out when he palmed the turgid flesh. Gordon propped himself against the cold brick and slowly pumped his cock. Closing his eyes, he imagined 'Samantha' on his knees, peering up at him with those liquid gold eyes as he took Gordon's dick into his mouth.

He bit back a small moan and then stopped suddenly when he heard the scrape of the door. Hastily, he withdrew his hand and smoothed down his clothes. Then he turned, anger rising, to see who'd interrupted his interlude.

"Oh, hey! Didja like the show?" a now-familiar husky voice enquired. "I'm Sam, by the way." He held out his hand to Gordon.

"Gordon," he nodded, crossing his arms in front of his chest. His dick throbbed in the confines of his pants as he realized that Sam was just wearing a thin robe and slippers. He wondered if he was still wearing those underpants, wondered what it would feel like to rub his dick against that silky material. He felt moisture pool in his cotton under shorts.

"Well?" His hair was no longer the severe bob that it had been coifed into for his act, now the ends stuck out in every direction, Gordon noted.

"Yeah," he managed.

Sam's face split into a wide grin. "I'm really glad you liked it!" He replied enthusiastically. He stepped closer to Gordon. In the dim ambient light Gordon could see that Sam had hastily washed all the make up off his face, just traces remained.

"I could take care of that for you," Sam murmured huskily, his eyes darting to the bulge in Gordon's pants. Then the odd yellows were leveled at him again. "I bet I could do a little better for you than your hand."

Gordon remained motionless, unmoved, unable _to_ move, to believe what his ears were hearing. Sam glanced up at him, a hint of nervousness evident in his expression for a fleeting moment before his hand rose to the sash that cinched his waist. He pulled at the material and his robe fell open. Gordon couldn't keep himself from looking, from seeing the sheen of the black silk. He felt light-headed.

"You can touch it," Sam urged softly.

Slowly Gordon's hands fell to his sides. He wanted to, oh God how he wanted to, but he'd never done anything like this before in his life. He didn't know the mechanics and was too embarrassed to say anything.

Sam must have sensed something was amiss. "A hole is a hole," he whispered, "and I'm already stretched. I've been thinking about you all day. I haven't been able to stop thinking about you since the first time I laid eyes on you." His hand cupped Gordon's erection and Gordon mirrored the action. He'd never touched another man there, but his dick was appreciating the sensation, holy fuck it was. Gently Sam moved them until their positions were reversed and he was standing with his back to the wall. Sam's hands deftly undid Gordon's trousers and he pushed them off his hips, freeing his erection.

"Take me Gordon, I want you to." Sam wrapped his arms around Gordon's neck and lifted himself, his back levered against the wall. He wrapped his legs around Gordon's waist. His dick bobbed against Sam's firm bottom and he pressed his weight against the slender frame before they crushed their mouths together. The kiss was nothing short of ferocious, borne of mutual pent up arousal. Gordon's hands slid over Sam's lithe body, his hand cupping the teen's ass. The material felt divine, stretched over the firm globes. He tugged at, exposing Sam's crack.

"Uh-huh, that's it, put it in me!" Sam tilted his pelvis, his thighs tightening over Gordon's hips in a vise-like grip. He bore down on the tip of Gordon's cock, rubbing his flesh over it.

"Fuck!" Gordon exclaimed at this new sensation.

"Yeah, baby that's the idea!" Sam reached down and lined Gordon's crown up with his entrance then bounced a little.

He got the picture and pushed against Sam, pinning him against the wall as his length worked inside. What he couldn't accomplish, gravity achieved, and soon Sam was writhing in his arms. Gordon's knees threatened to buckle as he tried to accommodate for this newest experience; he'd never felt anything quite so amazing as the way Sam seemed to fit him so snugly, like a custom-tailored glove. Sam's arms tightened around his neck and Gordon felt as if he were slowly being turned inside out, enveloping this embodiment of sex that wriggled against him and whispered the dirtiest things in his ear. It wasn't long before he felt a wetness bloom between him as Sam announced that 'fuck yeah' he was coming, and by that time Gordon was lost to the sensation of his own impending climax, which erupted milliseconds after Sam's.

Both their chests heaved as they gasped for air, and slowly, as their breathing returned to normal, they untangled their limbs, Gordon gently lowering Sam to the ground.

If he'd needed a ciggy before, Gordon figured he could use the entire twenty right about then. He buttoned up his pants and then patted them down, searching for the pack that Christian had bought him.

"So it was good, then?" Amber eyes looked up at him, hopefully.

Gordon lit the stick and then he glanced over at Sam appraisingly. "Yeah, it was alright," he agreed, taking a drag. A smile tugged at the corner of his lips and he slipped his arm around Sam's shoulders. Pulling him close, Gordon laid a kiss on his forehead. "You, however, are something else."


End file.
